


Transition

by DarkSilverWings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexuality, F/M, Fluff, Pure cute romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, thoughts and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSilverWings/pseuds/DarkSilverWings
Summary: It doesn't matter how close we are because we're anything but farYou can whisper my name or call me across the hallwaysI'll care for you just the sameBecause you and I are something special





	

Transition  
Bokutō Koutarou/Reader  
  
Probably the most hilarious thing you'd witnessed in your life was the nurse telling Bokutō to wash off his hair gel so she could properly measure his height. Akaashi wasn't laughing, but you could tell he was suppressing it just like you were in front of the teacher. The volleyball captain was rinsing his hair out, face dunked in the sink and the nurse waited with a deadpan expression that was flinching into a grin. Of course the entire school knew about Bokutō's hair complex. "He looks like a bird with soaked wings", Akaashi mumbles, and this time you slap a hand over your mouth so as not to laugh. 

 

No hope for praying he hadn't noticed, because the next minute he's on a speed train of words, "Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me? You're laughing at me aren't you? So you really think I'm not cool without my hairdo? _Akaashi!_ " He's sobbing almost comically and now you're bracing yourself against the wall as the nurse pushes the height checker down on his head. "You're so cool Bokutō-san", Akaashi deadpans, he's never made an effort to sound realistic when complimenting the owlish captain. 

 

"Hey hey (F/n), I'm really cool okay? I'll prove it to you okay? I'm among the top five aces of the country!"  
"Still means there are three people b-"  
"Don't saaaayy it", he sobs, lunging from the height charts to cling on your arm while Akaashi pointedly ignores your cries for help since he's suddenly not the one hauling the captains weight. The nurse dismisses you, eyes twinkling with mirth in betrayal to her blank face, and you bow with Bokutō still clinging onto your arm rambling about how he's definitely cool. Water droplets splashed your cheeks and he must've been glad there was no practice today, lest one of his kohais see his soppy, un-spiked, not-Bokutō hair. When he lets go you make it a point to thread fingers through his drying hair and he looks confident again, "So? It's super soft isn't it? I have a hairstylist cousin! Aren't I the coolest?"

  
  
"Your hairstylist cousin didn't comment on your horned owl spikes?"  
"Not to mention the added height", Akaashi, unlike you, is still trying not to laugh. Bokutō must feel super lame. "Then...I'll never spike my hair again, I'll quit spiking."  
"Emo Bokutō-san makes an appearance."  
"That's a good idea, stop doing it."  
"True, isn't it?"  
He's more than shocked by your banter, but when you reach a hand out to help him up from where he'd dramatically fallen, he's back up and cheery chastising the resident setter for making him look uncool.

Probably the saddest thing you'd ever seen was witnessing Bokutō upset. Not his usual dramatic cliché, that was certainly adorable, this was heart wrenching. It's a Saturday and practice is off today but he's plopped in the middle of the empty gym surrounded by volleyballs he'd probably thrown or dropped rather than spiked and a net that isn't even put up properly. His uneven breaths bounce off the walls and you can't see his eyes. So you try, you put all the volleyballs back and put the nets and stands away, you bring out the mops and clean the floor before fetching a cold drink from the vending machine and crouching by the captain who hasn't moved. 

"Bokutō-san?" He offers a smile that isn't full and you still can't see his eyes. His voice shakes when he asks you what's up though he desperately tries to stop it. You sit down beside him, lean his back half against your front and press the cool drink to his cheeks, lightly flicking the tear streaked tracks with your thumb. He's stiff, you know that, but he wants you to hold his hand so you do. You draw circles and spirals and trace characters of his name and he squeezes your fingers. The drink forms perspiration that he seems to enjoy wiping away and his fingers twitch against the cap. You put your hand over his and turn it open, not uttering a single word and he knows. He's vulnerable, and you aren't taking advantage of him. His shoes squeak against the floor as he shifts and you reach down to tie the haphazard laces. 

He slouches against you, you've never seen him slouch before, and his legs cross at half bent positions, too poised to be an accident but too careless to be prepared. His silver and black hair isn't up like it usually is, it's halfway there but he clearly hasn't bothered very much. Tokyo's chill can't creep in through the closed windows but it slides in under the door and through the gaps in shutters you've never noticed somewhere high up. Evening is setting in, but Bokutō doesn't seem like he wants to move so you don't either. The hollowed out space carries your voice when you hum a tune he knows, quietly, tentatively, unsure if he wanted to listen. 

But he does, and he sing-songs back the next lines in a lacklustre attempt that made his normal singing too bright. You don't try to conceal the clench of your heart and he lets you take his other hand while he sips. At least you knows he's responsive. You could build on it from there. The sound in the room echoes, less and less hollow each time as the life slowly drops back into his words. You sit with him in the empty gym on a Saturday he'd probably forget. But you'd remember it, because he doesn't deserve days like that.

Bokutō Koutaro deserves warm days by the pool and sunny days at amusement parks. He deserves ice cream to cool off and a roller coaster to rush his adrenaline. He deserves to laugh and smile and climb on desks to imitate spiking a volleyball because he's the purest form of joy you know. For every stumble you make he makes two just to pull a laugh and he still lives at a different pace from everyone else. He'll jump to hug you around the neck from behind before you even know he's there and while you try to gain your bearings he'll tell you where he's coming from. 

It's usually a class, he's usually on his way to volleyball practice. He usually asks you to come along and you usually refuse politely. The volleyball court just wasn't the place for an introvert like you, no matter how sweet Bokutō was. "(F/n) do you want to come to practice?" He asks one day, arms still around your neck as you stumble, laughing as you hold his arms. "Bokutō-san-" he breathes softly against your neck, causing cold air to rush over your skin. He's quiet, waiting, not upset but patient. He's waiting without protest for your answer and you really can't say no to that. "A-alright then. I'll come to watch today", you nod, glancing at his hands from the corner of your eye and admiring the rough curves of his fingers. 

You remember an art project that requires a study of human figures and think maybe this could help if you had a silent, non-flash camera for reference photos. Volleyball was a very tiring sport for a reason; the amount that the players had to move and jump and contort their bodies. Bokutō grins like an idiot and wraps his legs around you, causing you to lose balance and stumble against a vending machine. He laughs hysterically as he lets go, footing still unstable and dragging you along by your hand to the classroom. Akaashi is so used to the captains antics by now that his slow marching with you into class to a rhythm nobody can hear is not strange at all. The both of you look happy, so that's enough for him. "Akaashi!" Bokutō calls, sprinting across the classroom, "(F/n)'s gonna show up for our practice today!"  
"Really? You got her to agree, Bokutō-san? Congratulations", he says in a mock incredulous tone. "Akaashi you really should try to be nice to him", you grin, the sparkle in your eyes telling him the exact opposite of your words. Akaashi doesn't try to help the smile that pulls at his lips.

"Bokutō-san?" He's panting, exhausted, definitely overworking himself but he doesn't realise. You do. "Hmm?"  
"Everyone left already", you tell him, crouching by his side and offering a hand. He rests the back of his on it, pulling your fingers through his and dumping his head unceremoniously on your shoulder. "Ah, I didn't realise", he huffs, breathing still heavy.  
"Bokutō-san", you coax, squeezing his hand and resting the other in his hair. He hums, his huff turning into an even flow of breath against your shirt. "Mm", he mumbles, "Not yet."

  
You sling a hand under his arm, halfway around his waist and pull him upright. "What am I going to do with you, Bokutō-san?"  
"Well for starters you could call me Koutarou", he chuckles, relishing the support you gave him, leading him to the benches. "And what would that accomplish, hm?" You can't help but laugh, the words sliding off your tongue with a teasing lilt. "It would show that I like you", he responds, a hint of his usual vigour coming back to his voice. "And I like you too, Bokutō-san, but you're older than me and so I'll call you by your last name", you continue, setting him down at the bench.

  
"We're in the same class, (f/n)."

"Yes, but I'm a year younger for the class", you remind him, setting out to put away all the equipment and volleyballs before sliding the mops across the salonpa-scented floor. Bokutō shuffles his shoes and drags himself up to fall against you, his bigger form pushing you backwards to the ground with a chortled cry. He doesn't rise though, arms still draped over your half-raised shoulders and head resting at your cheek. You smile at him, ruffling his hair and softly reminding him it's late, he should go home, he needs rest and food. 

He mumbles something that's definitely a complaint, so you nudge his shoe and sit up, leaning your weight against your hands behind you. "(F/n), call me Koutarou, and I'll follow you out of here", he settles on, breath fanning your lips. "Alright, Koutarou, I'll get you some coffee if you stand up and go change", you whisper, a warm smile crossing your features. "Well, how can I refuse that?" He grins, jumping up and offering a hand to you, which you take. Before you can say anything, he's dashed off to clean himself up and you recheck the gym and lock it up. Bokutō bounds back in his uniform, bag slung over his shoulder, waving at you as he walks from the club room. You hand him the keys to the gym, and return the sentiment when he squeezes your hand.

There's a certain charm in the relationship you share. It's platonic by definition, yes, but you didn't feel any burning desire to be pushed against the lockers and captured in a heated kiss of some sort. Seeing his smile, watching him laugh, laughing with him, those things meant far more to you than any romantic gesture ever would. And had you been trying to impress him constantly, you never would have reached this level of comfort with the Fukurodani captain laying on your shoulder as you paused the movie you were watching and nudged his foot with your own. He hums briefly, burying his head further into the crook of your neck and refusing adamantly to be moved. So you switch the movie back on, and slide your hands into his hair because he loves that and it comforts him. 

Maybe it's because of this special kind of compatibility that when he leans up to kiss your cheek, the flush that spreads across your face is only embarassment and not shock. Maybe it's because you weren't lusting after him that this transition was so easy and so natural that when his lips find yours you only respond. None of it is forced, and none of it is empty. Each wavering breath he took against your skin caused a hitch in your lungs that wasn't a cry. And your stomach was warm and satisfied, not nervously jittering with butterflies. He smiles against your cheek, nudging it in an owlish gesture before he brushes his lips across the skin again and your breath doesn't stop but your heart beats louder. 

He can hear it. He knows. You know. He does ask you, quietly and very unlike himself if you will be his girlfriend and you respond to him that you will without doubting he'd redo the question. He does, he goes to Akaashi and plans it out and gives you chocolate as he asks you, fiddling with his suddenly pristine uniform and brimming with a nervousness that's just so like him. You repeat your answer, and he really just smiles. He does freak out later, jumping and swinging his arm around your shoulder and spinning in a circle with you till dizziness pulled a laugh from his lips. You and Akaashi take him back to his house, though he insists he's fine, and he still waves when you leave. Akaashi doesn't ask about your relationship, he knows Bokutō and he knows you. He knows the comfort is enough, and it always will be. He knows understanding is the basis of what you are to each other and nobody can take that away, _because you know it too._  


**Author's Note:**

> 100% knew that this was going to happen at some point I'm sorry this is self-indulgent (but all my work is?)  
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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